


Even

by bellakink (theoneinquisitor)



Series: the 100 kink meme 2019 [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Hot Neighbor trope, Just some good blarke fuckin', Kink Meme, Light Praise Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Revenge Sex, WTFfic, some dirty talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-20
Updated: 2019-01-20
Packaged: 2019-10-13 06:24:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17482844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoneinquisitor/pseuds/bellakink
Summary: When Clarke catches Finn cheating, she decides to get even. With the hot neighbor, who more than willingly volunteers.





	Even

**Author's Note:**

> kink meme prompt: Finn is cheating on clarke so she gives him a lesson by fucking bellamy in front of him.  
> I tidied this up from the original fill that I did, so hopefully it flows better. Enjoy some good ol' revenge fucking. 
> 
> you can read more kink meme fills [here.](https://100kinkmeme.livejournal.com/3621.html)
> 
> Edit: apparently I can't read and thought km was closed when I posted this...please don't @ me

Clarke realizes a few things the moment she finds Finn face deep in another girl’s pussy.

One: this is not the first time he’s done it, if the way the girl, a hot little brunette clad in nothing but a tight little red dress with her legs spread wide open, black stilettos pointed into the air, screams his name. It’s the same way Clarke has so many times before -- completely faked and over dramatic if only to boost his fragile ego. Finn is good at a few things, admittedly, but eating pussy is not one of them.

Two: she’s absolutely pathetic for thinking a bag of take out and an office visit could remedy the fight they had the night before.  It’s been clear for a while that there is no remedy to this failing relationship, but Clarke has some issues to work out, one of those being her fear of being alone.

Three: the last thing any man will do to her is make her look like a god damned fool. 

She doesn’t even wait for him to wipe the arousal from his lips,  to even form the apology that he would try to spin into an accusation against her. She just laughs, tosses the lunch into the nearest trash can and slams the door to the office so hard the floor shakes.

When she arrives back at their shared apartment, she finds the first picture of them she can. It’s one of them in Florida last year, smiling like they were in some god-damned Hallmark movie. She stares at it for a long moment, until she feels something in her snap, and launches it at the nearest wall. The glass shatters, the corner of the frame slightly chips the paint. And it feels good. So she finds another. Another. Soon enough there is a pile of broken frames scattered about the living room and she’s just about to start on the bedroom -- tossing clothes out the window seems like a healthy coping mechanism, right? -- when there’s a frantic knock at the door. 

She has a few words for the cheating bastard, oh, more than few. Ripping open the door, she starts, “You have some  _ fucking  _ nerve-”

Except it isn’t her cheating bastard of an  _ ex,  _ but her neighbor, Bellamy, wearing nothing but a pair of basketball shorts, hair dripping onto her welcome mat like he sprinted from his shower to her front door.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, pushing past her as if searching for something, “I heard glass breaking.”

Okay, so maybe she didn’t give much thought to the fact that the wall that became her own personal launching target had been the one connecting their apartments. His eyes find shards of glass and shattered photos. The muscles in his shoulders tense, carving dents into his bronze skin, and suddenly she’s distracted. 

She’s always found her neighbor to be hot. Sort of that  _ I can look but can’t touch  _ appeal because she’s a monogamous kind of gal and sometimes it’s nice to admire from a distance. He’s been a consistent presence in her life, starting when they first moved in and he graciously offered to help move the furniture up the stairs so Clarke didn’t have to. He’s loaned her books, she’s loaned him records. Sometimes they watch movies or she’ll take him dinner. Last winter he fixed their furnace for nothing more than a beer. She kept him company as he worked, watched as his biceps flexed with each turn of the wrench. Her eyes would find their way to the exposed bits of skin when his shirt rode up, the thatch of hair under his naval traveling below the waistband of his jeans...

“Clarke?” 

“Hm?” She flushes, snapping her eyes away from where she was most definitely checking him out. “I’m fine.” 

“Did something happen?” he asks, approaching slowly, “Where’s Finn.”

She snorts. “Probably still fucking his secretary.” 

“What?” 

“Caught him cheating on me. It’s fine. I’m fine.”

She’s not. There are a thousand tiny pieces of glass to prove that, but she’s too stubborn to say otherwise.    
Bellamy grabs her shoulders, squeezing them gently under his strong fingers. It probably says a lot about her that the only thought running through her head is:  _ he has really nice hands. _

“What the fuck do you mean he cheated on you?” Now he’s watching her with pity, eyes searching hers to make sure she’s not two seconds from throwing herself at the wall like those frames. She hates it. She hates that she looks stupid. Naive. And she hates that Bellamy pities her for it. 

“I mean he was choking on cum about an hour ago and it wasn’t mine,” she snaps. Her cheeks burn, though she’s not sure if it’s the embarrassment of admitting it out loud or the fact that Bellamy is now looking at her like she’s some broken little thing, like she’s one of those stupid frames lying scattered across the carpet in pieces. 

He finally stops with the  _ sad eyes  _ and to her surprise, laughs. It’s gravely and bitter. “Wow, he’s an even bigger piece of shit than I thought. For the record, I never liked him.”

_ Interesting. _

“Oh?” 

He takes a small step forward. She doesn’t move away this time. “Yeah. Always thought you were too good for him.” 

The moment he enters her space again, a thought comes to her. It’s childish. Immature. But she remembers a saying that goes something like this:  _ Don’t get mad. Get even. _

It’s a dangerous game to play. But she’s angry, sad, and frankly, a little turned on. Her hot neighbor, her friend, is standing in front of her without a shirt and in full-blown protective mode. She closes the gap between them, stepping into his space so that she can feel the warmth of his breath as it hitches. 

“And why’s that?”

The moment he grins, crooked and challenging, she knows it’s over. He leans down, his nose almost pressed against her own. “Come on, Clarke. You’re smart. You’re hot. Two things ten leagues out of his own.”

She tilts her head, pulling her lip between her teeth. His eyes follow the movement and for a moment, time freezes. The air is charged, an electric current of  _ will they or won’t they  _ and when he glances back up at her, she can tell he’s asking permission. 

_ You just caught your boyfriend cheating. You should be tossing his clothes and crying over a pint of ice cream.  _

But Clarke Griffin doesn’t cry over boys. And she sure as hell doesn’t let them get the best of her. 

She closes the gap between them, fingers curling around his neck to pull his lips to hers. The kiss is all teeth and tongue, rough and needy. His hands find their way to her back, snaking underneath her shirt to trace along her spine. She lets out a soft moan when she feels them dip underneath the waistband of her skirt, tangling her hand into his mane of dark curls and tugging reactively. He groans into her mouth at the sensation, driving her to do it once more. 

She walks him backwards slowly to her couch, falling with him as his knees hit the cushion and he collapses into it. She straddles his lap, feeling his cock twitch against her core as soon it makes contact. He reaches down to tug off her shirt in one smooth motion, hardly even breaking the kiss as he tosses it over his shoulder. Her breasts are spilling over the cups of her bra already and he doesn’t bother taking his time, yanking down the fabric and palming her in his hands. They’re different from Finn’s, calloused and rough against her skin. She bites into his lower lip as he runs a thumb over her nipple, eliciting a low growl in his chest. 

She makes a noise of protest when he pulls away from her lips, but he quickly attaches to a sensitive patch of skin right behind her ear, like he already knew it was a sweet spot for her. She mewls happily, grinding down on his bulge reactively, causing a, “Fuck, Clarke,”to vibrate against her throat. 

He works his way down the column of her neck, her collarbone, to her breasts. His mouth hovers over her nipple, long enough for him to tell her, “You’re tits are fucking gorgeous.”

Her response lodges itself in her throat as he takes a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before rolling his tongue in repetitive motion. She rocks against him, feeling herself beginning to soak through her panties. His mouth is attentive and skilled, and he releases her breast with a loud pop only to move over and provide the same attention to the other. She’s pressing her chest into him, fingers carding through his hair in soft encouragement. 

He nibbles gently, pulling another moan from her lips and she once again grinds herself into his cock. It’s fully erect now, hard against her cunt as she presses into it and she can feel something tighten with in her, a coil nearly ready to unwind. 

“Fuck,” she breathes, “So good, God, I need…”

He leans up to kiss her again, sucking at her bottom lip with a satisfied smirk, “What do you need, babe?” 

He presses into her for good measure, because he knows exactly what she needs. What she wants. But already she can tell he enjoys being told and she definitely has no problem saying. “I need your cock, Bell. I need to feel you.” 

In one smooth motion, he has them flipped over, her back pressed into couch and hand working at the button of her jeans. He pops it skillfully, before hooking his thumbs through the belt loops and pulling them down to her ankles. God, she can feel her own heat between her thighs, her cunt throbbing at just the thought of him fucking her right here on the couch, shattered photos of her and her boyfriend -- ex, that is -- lying only feet away. 

He stands to shuck his shorts, kicking off his boxers with them, leaving him fully exposed to her. Clarke has never fancied herself a size queen before, but the moment she sees his cock, she’s enthralled by it. It’s large - thick and curved and fucking perfect. Of course it’s perfect, just like the rest of him, and she almost asks if he’ll let her suck him off because she wants to taste him. But his hand finds her cunt, two fingers sinking into her easily, and she forgets all about the things she wants to do. She forgets any coherent train of thought. 

“You’re soaked, Clarke,” he tells her gleefully, his fingers pumping in and out of her rhythmically. She grips his forearm, feeling the tendons flex with each movement inside her. She knows it won’t take long to get her there. She hasn’t come in almost three weeks - Finn sure as hell hadn’t made her and she’d been too busy to mastrubate. Her body craves the release.

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, and it goes straight through her, the sound of the name on his tongue, the way his fingers curl into her, hitting a spot that she can’t reach and Finn’s never tried to. 

“God, right there,” she moans, “Right there, Bell, yes!” 

She’s so close to the edge and as if sensing it, he finds her clit with his thumb and presses into it. The coil tightens completely before releasing, her nails dig into her arm as she lets out a high pitched noise that sounds vaguely like his name. 

“Fuck, you look so beautiful coming like this. Coming for me.” 

She rocks her hips as he takes her through it, fingers slowing as she comes down before pulling out all together. She’s almost embarrassed that it happened so fast, that he could get her off with just a few minutes of foreplay. She tries to gather herself quickly, sitting up to reach for his hand. She fists the two fingers that had been inside of her and pulls them to her lips, running her tongue over the tips before sucking them in altogether. 

His jaw slackens as he watches, in awe of her tasting herself without shame. As he’s distracted, she moves to straddle him again her thighs slick as they settle over his and she shutters when she feels his cock slide against her sensitive clit.

“You gonna fuck me now?” he asks smugly, “Is that what you want, Clarke?”

In response, she sinks down onto him, completely taking him all at once. She watches his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head as he settles into the couch. His hands are gripping her waist so tightly she thinks it might bruise. The thought alone urges her forward. 

“Jesus Christ,” he pants. 

She starts slow, trying to get used to the size of him inside of her. She’s stretched completely around him, feeling fuller than she’s ever felt but in the best way. Using his shoulders for leverage, she lifts up, clenching her cunt around him as she goes. When she sinks down again, he lets out a drawn out moan, and something primal takes over. This need to fuck him dizzy, the need to be properly fucked. It drives her. She begins to move quicker, thighs burning as she goes and tits bouncing against his chest. His hands slip to her ass, gripping each cheek and guiding her up and down his cock. 

She feels powerful. Sexy. And it feels so fucking good.

“You’re amazing,” he tells her in between kisses, “I’ve wanted you like this since I met you, since you showed up in those tiny little shorts.” His words falter as she slams down on him. “So fucking gorgeous, babe. He doesn’t deserve you. Never has.” 

Between her piercing moans and his filthy mouth, neither one of them hear the jingle of keys, the click of the lock as it turns. She’s climbing to the peak once again, his hand finds her clit and begins rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves. She’s close. So close.

“What the fuck, Clarke?!” 

She thinks she imagines his voice at first, like some subconscious guilt has risen up to try and stop her from doing this. She keeps going, growing louder so as to drown it out.

“Fuck, yes. Bell, Bell, Bell…” she chants. 

“Clarke!” she hears again, and she thinks nothing of it until she sees Bellamy glance over her shoulder, brows furrowed. She pauses, clenching her pussy against his cock as she turns towards the door. He hisses through his teeth. 

She’s not sure what it says about her that she doesn’t even consider moving from Bellamy’s cock when she sees Finn standing there, roses clenched in his hand as he takes in the scene before him. But as soon as she notices the flowers, the confused look on his face, she realizes she doesn’t give a flying fuck. In fact, she thrives on it. 

She turns fully around now so that her back is arched, her ass pressed against Bellamy’s abdomen. She flattens her feet into the carpet, using it to push herself off his cock completely and lower herself back down. The angle change has her gripping his knees to keep herself upright because he’s so deep inside her she nearly gives out. 

Finn’s mouth drops open. She does it again. 

Bellamy adjusts himself against the couch, sitting up to create more space for her to move and wrapping one arm full around her while the other grips her thigh as to guide her movement. He growls into her ear, breath hot against her skin and she begins fucking herself on him faster. She feels her second orgasm coming quickly, eyes trained on Finn as he watches, frozen in place. 

“That’s it,” Bellamy cheers her on, “Let him watch you come on my cock. Let him watch how good I can give it you.” 

Her moans grow high pitched as he begins to meet her thrust for thrust, thighs slapping against her ass as she bounces and when she feels his dick begin to pulse inside of her, she let’s go again, shuttering against him as her body releases. She feel him pulse inside of her before coming with a near shout. He sinks into the couch, pulling her with him for a brief moment. He lays a gentle kiss on her cheek, causing something warm to flutter in her chest. 

There’s a long stretch of silence only filled with their heavy breathing before she finally slides off of him. Her legs are shaky and she can feel Bellamy’s come already beginning to drip down her thighs. Finn’s eyes are on her, face screwed into a look of both white hot anger and devastating sadness. She approaches him with a sadistic smile on her face. She stands in front of him, pussy filled with Bellamy’s come and doesn’t hesitate when she asks: “How does it feel?” 

 

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me on [tumblr](https://octannibal-blake.tumblr.com)


End file.
